


You Better Run

by SweetDreamsDarling



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood, Blood and Violence, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt Phil Lester, Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Sad Phil Lester, Secret Identity, Secrets, dan's an assassin, don't read if you don't like bloodshed, guilty dan howell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDreamsDarling/pseuds/SweetDreamsDarling
Summary: Daniel Howell is a trained assassin, he'll take on any job as long as it:A) Isn't a childB) Isn't his family/friendsBut his job description didn't cover what to do with those his victims left behind. Falling in love was never part of the plan.After all, it is a bit unprofessional to fall for a victim's boyfriend, even if he is rather cute.





	You Better Run

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know the length of this yet, but I do think some parts will be slightly graphic, please don't read if blood and violence is an issue because the last thing anyone wants is to feel bad.
> 
> Tumblr: flowerpotphil

Daniel Howell, a supposedly normal 27 year old British guy, wasn't a very open person. His society was one dependent on hierarchy, it was easier for him to keep his mouth shut and go with whatever came his way. People didn't bother him unless they really needed to, he wasn't all that close to his family, and his work was entirely solo. To anyone who asked what he did to earn such a luxurious living - chandeliers, crystal glasses, his white grand piano that took up most of the lounge, and his charmeuse bath robe, were all examples of things he owned - would get a shrug, at a push he'd tell them he was an accountant for some of the richest people in the country. In the 8 years he'd been in the job he did, no one had ever proved him wrong, and he hoped that wouldn't change. 

No, he wasn't an accountant, he had no idea what accountants even did, but he couldn't let anyone hear about his actual job. For one: he didn't even go by Daniel Howell. It was his birthname, the name his parents gave him before they had another kid and pushed him to the sidelines.   
His 'work' identity - The Crimson Whisper - made people shake, vomit and pass out in terror, often creating an atmosphere you could cut with a knife. It was more than uncontrolled fright people felt at the name, it was an emotion beyond human comprehension. 

Daniel Howell, The Crimson Whisper, was a ruthless killer. The rich employed him to assassinate anyone they wanted, paying horrifically high prices for the deed to be done quickly, and to assure that their names weren't affiliated with the killing. There were a few assassins hanging around the streets, but their work was sloppy and they preferred to let their name be known. Daniel had never given the authorities anything to identify him with, hushed street talk had conjured up The Crimson Whisper because no one ever heard the victims of him cry out. No one heard him either, he was completely and utterly silent apart from when he was discussing work. He had to bite back remarks and laughter when people's eyes rounded at the sound of his assassin name, but over the years it had gotten much easier. The strange thing about him was that no one even suspected that the quietest man among them was up to anything sinister.

* * *

 

It was December when Daniel let his eye off the ball. 

All of the people that required his assistance had to wait under a very precise tree in the small forest land by Daniel's apartment, it was the tallest oak tree and it hid his figure in the shadows. It was back alley talk that gave people the place to find him, no one would dare hand him to the police in fear he'd tell all their secrets. The payment for each person Dan had to take care of was determined by the length of time he had, how long he had to go, and how risky it was, but everyone had to tell him a secret. People would do anything to protect their most dreaded secret. 

Dan was at the top of his game before a man turned up under the tree on December 1st. He was wrapped in a moth-bitten, stained cloth and his body hunched over. It was raining, the wind was making it exceptionally eerie to be so deep in the forest at midnight; everything was perfect in Dan's eyes.   
The man's face was shadowed over, but the darkness made Dan unable to decipher anything else about him, all he knew was that he wasn't his usual customer. 

"Excuse me, you're the assassin, correct?" Shockingly, his voice wasn't of an old man, possibly middle aged. Looks really were deceiving.  
"That would be me." His voice was intentionally guttural, unidentifiable if someone spoke to him during the day.  
"I've saved up for a year, there's this woman who's... She's just bad."  
"I'll need a proper reason."  
"She's a fraud, she dresses up and takes money from people. Her boyfriend has no idea what she does behind his back, but she burgles, cheats, and takes people for granted. She robbed my wife, she's in her 60's and the poor woman was scared to death!" The man's voice was rising as he spoke, the resentment for the girl becoming so out of hand.   
"What's her name?"  
"Harriet Turner."

Dan knew her. When he was starting out as an assassin, she was being trained by the same person he was. They'd been sent after the same person and she'd nearly pushed him off the ledge he was standing on, but that was when he bothered hiding his face. She didn't know anything about him, but he'd read about her. She must've hung up the bloodied robes for a civilian life, or maybe not according to the man standing in front of Dan. 

"When do you need me to do it?"  
"Before Christmas, preferably before 2 weeks have passed. Just get it done."  
"You know I'll need all the money you saved, it's Christmas after all, and a secret."  
"My name is Micheal Darker and I used to excessively gamble." And then he threw a pouch of rolled up notes on the floor in front of Dan, then walked away. The quick appointments were always the best, the risks were low and Dan could get back to just being Dan - he didn't have to struggle with the weight of his heavy duty clothing.

While the pay was outstanding, the conditions weren't great. He was to burrow into black clothes with a protective layer over his torso in case anyone tried to fight back. No one ever did. Descriptions of him had travelled like wildfire, vague ones that couldn't identify him in the slightest, so a dark figure standing in someone's room at night was a give away. They just gave up. It was almost amusing how many people Dan had immolated that just gave themselves to him; pathetic really. When he was busy it was torture, 3 people to dispatch of overnight meant a mad chase around the city to all the places they'd be, he also had to keep up his standard of work. Any mess that didn't need to be made was an imaginary strike against him. However much the busy nights dragged on, the slow times were even worse - he'd constantly be checking the thousands of pounds he'd saved up in case his services weren't needed anymore. Foolish to think that, he always had a steady flow of customers from all around, sometimes people were too wrapped up in themselves to need him.

* * *

 

Research. That was the first step Dan took. He'd try and get as much information he could about the people he was going after, and social media sites were one of the best advantages. He joined it and added everyone that appeared so it wouldn't look suspicious if he needed it later on, but most people had public profiles. He spent hours researching and taking notes of things that were useful to know. For instance, if someone went out every Friday night he would hang around until they were alone to strike. Most of it was common sense, the skill came with leaving no evidence of him being there. 

Harriet, as he thought, had given up her assassin lifestyle. She had a boyfriend called Philip Lester and was ostracised from the majority of her family. She didn't seem to like Phil that much, her posts were a lot about her being with friends and never with him. They went out to a bar each and every night; her income came from her boyfriend and serving in a restaurant; and she loved to get drunk. Phil was away on a business trip, but that was only for the weekend, and it was Friday - the day he left. Meaning that, if Dan was quick, he'd catch Harriet on the Saturday night, leaving her to whoever found her. That would probably be Phil. He wished there was a picture of the man, it would make his job a lot easier, but he posted sparingly so it wasn't a good chance. 

There were no clients on the Friday night, so Dan was able to collapse into his silk sheets with a glass of wine in his hand. If he had a night to himself he'd take a little self care, and he'd sort things out for himself, the nights would end with a large class of wine and a bar of chocolate, all while he watched one of the latest movies on his flat screen TV. It was all very laid back, but it took his mind off of the goal he had for the next night, and the fact that he probably wouldn't be sleeping.

Nonetheless, it was his job. Like it or not, he made his living doing this and he was the best at it. Other assassins had groups of friends that would sell them in when asked by police, but he never dared trust anyone, assassin or not, he worked alone. It was lonely sometimes, and he had a few acquaintances that he'd go out with, but none that he was close too. It had always been the same so it wasn't as if he missed anything from his past. He didn't have a relationship either, he slept around with girls in school, but other than that he never was bothered with it. He pushed any romantic feelings down, not that they were ever strong, it wouldn't tamper with his work that way. 

It was 1 AM when Dan turned off his TV and settled himself to sleep, drifting off into a land where nothing bad could happen. 

* * *

 

That night, however, his dreams were full of screaming.

 _Run._  
_He just had to keep running. He was going after Harriet and they caught him, her dad caught him and everyone was after him. People yelled and threw things as he ran ahead of them, everyone was desperate to get their revenge. His parents were there too. 'This is why we preferred your brother.' His dad muttered, but it made no sense for him to have heard that above the noise of the mob that was after him._  
_He ran to a dead end._  
_No._  
_Stop._  
  
  
Then he woke up with hands gripping sweat soaked sheets, a pounding heart, and a lack of breath. It wasn't real. The nightmares only got to him if it was the night before a risky task, but he wasn't frightened of getting caught. He could handle it, but the disappointment would be too much. His clients would be found out, they'd be slandered to no end, and his family would hate him even more than they already did. There were 2 consequences of being caught: prison time, or death. Dan would choose death, he wouldn't want to be sent down and have everyone know what he did, who he killed. Other assassins would pick at him because he always stole the limelight. In death there was nothing. It would be the only fair punishment for someone as bad as he was. 

He knew that he should've been productive that day, that maybe he could pry more into Harriet's life to try and track her, it was just hard to do it. Usually he loved the snooping, it was pretty interesting, but other times it was too exhausting. Taking his chances was a huge risk, but he'd never been close to being caught before, so why would it matter now? 

The TV made noise for itself as Dan slouched almost lifelessly in the chair. Sleep occasionally took over, but most of the hours passed with him staring into space. With it being winter he could set off to get his work done earlier, and he was best waiting around because he had no clue what time Harriet would inevitably crawl in drunk. It was funny, he never expected her to turn into a party girl, she was always so snobbish and uptight to what he thought.  
'While other girls get dressed up, I get suited up.' Is something she'd always say before she killed people, he'd seen it in the papers. She wasn't that great at keeping her identity a secret. 

At 6 PM it had gone dark, it was quite cold out so Dan's heavy torso protection gave some extra warmth. His suit was black and clung to his body so he could move efficiently. He guessed it looked like a gymnasts outfit, or the things that people wore backstage at a play - he was such a theatre nerd in school. He took back alley paths, the only life along them was intoxicated people, or people using heavy drugs, they wouldn't remember him by morning. A hood shielded his face, especially his eyes, so even if someone was aware enough to notice him, they wouldn't get in his way and wouldn't be able to describe him. He was sure he would've gotten caught, but the police didn't dare patrol there, and there were quite a few people dressed similar. 

The stone pavement was freezing, and homeless people were huddled up under cardboard and the occasional sheet. Dan felt slightly sorry for them, he had such an admirable life and they ad next to nothing. If he gave away his money he risked them telling the police that he had extraordinary amounts stashed away. He did ask some of them what they needed if it was during the day, then he'd dash to a store and get them a few things. Every single one of them was grateful for it. Contrary to belief, he was sympathetic to people who deserved it, but he could never let it get in the way of his work.

* * *

 

Harriet's apartment wasn't high up, it was actually on the first floor. It was shocking how many people left their spare keys buried around the place, even more so when that person was an ex-assassin. She'd left her key under a rock under the front window. It really was a bright idea. 

Dan didn't think twice about going in and unlocking the door, the CCTV camera was in shards and no one was around, no one was stupid enough to be outside in this apart from Harriet and her friends. Dan didn't even know if she was out partying that night, all he knew was Harriet wasn't in and he had to wait for her to come back in the darkness. He wished he could play on his phone, or do something, but it was trackable so it had to be left in his apartment. 

It was cold in the apartment, and the only sound was the clicking of the clock that Dan couldn't risk getting up to look at. Seconds went by. Those turned to minutes, Those turned to hours. It was boring.  
But it didn't last that long.   
He'd locked the door on his way in, so the familiar sound of someone's key sliding into the lock made Dan's mind more alert than it had been. He listened hard, there were no voices, a giveaway that Harriet was alone. 

He peered up over the arm of the couch he was sitting by, she was walking all over the place and spluttering with meaningless laughter as she did it. Drunk. She'd be so easy to take out, it was like an early Christmas gift for Dan, but she knew all the tricks of the trade. He just hoped she was too far gone to realise what was happening. 

She walked into another room, and Dan followed after her, his feet light on the carpet. The bedroom was grand, it was obvious that her boyfriend, Philip, had no say in what it looked like. Her clothes occupied every free surface, there was no sign of him apart from a pair of black converse shoes. It was pitiful, Dan felt sorry for a man he'd never met and never would meet.   
Harriet had her back to Dan, she was messing in a box that was on the end of her bed. Perfect.  
  
Two steps forward was all it took, and she didn't even realise he was there. A knife with no detail was out of its sheath within milliseconds, then Dan took a deep breath in. His one gloved hand wrapped around Harriet and covered her mouth while the other plunged the knife into her back. He knew the exact spots he needed to cut through, but the feeling of the knife sinking through flesh was never pleasant for him to feel. She didn't fight him, but he felt her going weaker in his grasp. He pulled the knife out again, letting the wound bleed out. Harriet became more of a dead weight as the time went by, her white dress staining red as blood trickled out. Her hand did go to the point where it was bleeding in a feeble attempt to stop it, or maybe it was just the realisation. Either way, it didn't work. When Dan brought his arm from around her, she crumpled to the floor. Her chest wasn't rising or falling. It was hard to check her pulse with gloves on, but it was either nonexistent or very faint. She was a goner either way. 

There was no remorse in Dan's eyes when he looked at Harriet. He couldn't afford it. As usual, he left through the front door and left it as she did, the keys hanging and door unlocked. The spare key was placed back under the rock. Then it was only to get home, a steady walk down the back alleys would more than work, he could hide in the corners and get home without anyone noticing him. It was easy.


End file.
